


Wanderlust

by winterisakiller (sparkinside)



Series: Tom & Callie [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston- Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 08:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19764904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/winterisakiller
Summary: He’d known since the beginning she had never wanted the things his life brought, and it had played a very crucial role into why things had fallen apart. Since then he’d taken it as gospel that her opinions hadn’t changed. She’d never said, never hinted at wanting more…Butnow…Now he found himself wondering if maybe she had done so and he’d simply been too wrapped in himself to see.





	Wanderlust

_She is truly stunning._ The thought stole its way across Tom’s mind as he watched her sleep beside him; peaceful and content. There was something about her that had captured him right from the beginning. He’d known she’d felt it too; he’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in the way she touched him, in every glance. And even now, years later, he couldn’t deny that she still held such sway over him.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed or how infrequently they saw one another; Callie was always in his thoughts. He thought of her whenever something made him laugh and he knew it would amuse her as well. She was the first person he wanted to call when he found a role that challenged him or when he gotten whatever part he’d been dying for. She was also the first one he wanted to talk to when something had gone terribly wrong and he needed a friendly voice. Callie was the one person whose voice he longed to hear on good days and especially on bad. But something had always stayed his hand; always made him hold back. He could barely begin to count the number of times he’d started to dial her number only to hang up at the last moment. 

It was hopeless, really. Tom had known it from the start. They had always been in such different places in their lives, had lived to very different worlds. He lived for his work; for the ability to travel, to try on new characters and challenges and to push himself as far as he dared. Sitting in one place for too long brought on an anxiety he couldn’t quite put into words. There was so much to see, so much to do, and so very, very little time in which to do so. How could he risk turning down a role when there was no guarantee he would get the chance to try it again? How could he say no to a promotional tour or meeting when the opportunity may not ever reoccur?

Callie, on the other hand, had loved the consistency and steadfastness of her life. She’d worked hard to get where she was; worked harder still to keep herself the best she could possibly be and, as such, enjoyed the comfort and security of knowing who and what she was and just what she’d wanted out of her life. Callie valued her own time and to simply just be. She was content to sit for hours reading in her worn leather chair by the window in her cozy living room and had done so as often as possible. She didn’t need the glitz and the glamour Tom had always seemed so at home in. His world didn’t make sense to her; it had never held any appeal for her. 

It was one of the many things he cherished about her. He was simply Tom with her. No demands, no mask, just himself. And he’d loved that. Loved her. Not just in the physical sense, though he could not deny that the physicality between them had always been electric, but all of her. Her smile, her laugh, the way she cared about those who mattered to her and those she barely knew. The quiet strength and resolve she possessed no matter the challenges she faced. She never ceased to amaze him for simply being who she was. 

And if he were to be honest with himself, he could admit she was everything he’d ever really wanted. They clicked in a way he’d had with anyone before or after. But they were too different; lived in two vastly different worlds. Their lives hadn’t and would never mesh in any way which would work. He knew it. And he knew she did too. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to. And he did. Desperately. 

That was one of the many reasons he’d found himself here, again, tangled up in his bed with her. Why he let himself open to her when he knew there was very little chance of an actual future between then. It always happened. He’d fought it at first, knowing that giving in would only make the hurt worse in the end. But it had all been in vain. He couldn’t fight the electricity nor the bond between them. And, in all honesty, he hadn’t wanted to. He couldn’t have her, not in the way he’d longed for; he knew it all too well. So this, these stolen moments, would have to do. But they wouldn’t last. They couldn’t. Eventually, and he feared it would be sooner rather than later, they would have to part. For good. And that hurt more than he let himself think on. The idea of never again holding her in his arms, of never seeing her smile or hearing her laugh, burnt him to the core. But he couldn’t seem to see any other way.

Callie turned in her sleep, the sheet that had been pulled over her shoulder slipped revealing a full, round breast and the smooth curve of her shoulder. She snuggled closer against Tom’s side, the warmth of her skin against his sent shivers down his spine. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, in sleep and he was torn between wanting to simply watch her do so and the desire to wake her and have her at least once more before reality pulled them apart again. 

It had barely been a month since he’d seen her in the club, her head thrown back and eyes closed as she moved in time with the pulsing music. Seeing here there, just a handful of feet away from him, had thrown Tom; though, in all honesty, it shouldn’t have. London was only so big and he’d always known that seeing her was inevitable. But still, he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes at first. It had been so long; with his work and travel it had been months since he’d been in one place longer than a few days that wasn’t strictly for work. And even longer since he’d been home for any set length of time. Yet, there she was. He hadn’t let himself think about the consequences of his actions then; he’d simply gone to her. He’d needed her in a way he hadn’t needed anyone else. 

And it had been wonderful; the feel of her skin against his, her breathy moans in his ear, the weight of her against him, above him. He’d woken the morning after in her bed, watching her as she watched him from the doorway. He’d wanted to tell her then how beautiful she was to him; just how much he had missed her, how badly he wanted her in his life, in his bed, always. But that would shatter the fragile thing between them. It would break the unspoken rule of whatever this was they were doing. So he’d said nothing and let himself walk out of her life once again. It was funny, really, how he was the one who always seemed to walk away. He’d never let himself think on it; wouldn’t let himself acknowledge it. But it didn’t make it any less true. He hadn’t been able to stay away though, had sought her after; needing to be near her, to pretend just for a little while longer that this could work. That she’d wanted it to work just as badly as he did. Just for a little while 

Tom shifted in the bed, running a hand over the rough stubble on his chin. He hadn’t shaved in several days and it clearly showed. Callie stirred beside him, rolling tighter against him, her leg slipping between his and her head resting against his bare chest. He could feel the stiff peak of her nipple against his skin and bit back a groan at the sensation. 

He wanted her; he’d always wanted her. That had never been the problem _. Or, well,_ he mused, _maybe it is_. They had clicked so perfectly in the physical sense; she’d caught his eye from the moment he’d first seen her and he’d wanted her then more than he’d thought possible. But that had only been the start of it. Now…now it was so much more. And he knew deep in the marrow of himself that it wouldn’t be enough. The wanting her. The loving her. Not when she hadn’t wanted the spotlight that being with him would place on her. 

His life, the demands it placed on him, it left little if any time for something real. And dragging Callie into it only to hurt her…He wasn’t sure he could live with it. Wasn’t sure he wanted her to live with it. With knowing he would be gone more often than not; knowing that she couldn’t be his biggest priority. Knowing there would be times when he would have to choose between time with her and his career and that his career would most likely need to win. And then the lack of privacy. He knew his fan base, had seen them tear into the lives of women he dated in the past…And ones he’d barely known, just for the simple fact he was seen with them. It was something he wanted to save her from if he could. Knowing it wasn’t what she had wanted. Knowing that he couldn’t walk away from his life, not when he’d worked so hard for all he’d achieved, not when he would end up resenting her for it if he did. And she would resent him for dragging her into it all. She’d been clear that the idea of a spotlight on her life scared her; that she wasn’t sure it was something she could handle, that she _wanted_ to handle. 

And knowing that meant there was only one option left and the thought of it crushed him. He would have to leave…for good this time. No turning back, no second thoughts. Pulling her back into his life, even this private part of it, would be the height of cruelty for them both. Not when he couldn’t give her what they both wanted; a life together; safe and private and theirs. But the very thought of walking away made his blood run cold. He was a coward of the worst sort and he knew it. Putting this off, pretending this wasn’t just a temporary respite in the chaos of his life. That this didn’t have to end. He wished he were stronger. Wished he could keep her, keep this. And knowing all the same he couldn’t.

“Stop thinking so hard,” her sleep laced voice grumbled from against his side. “Your making _my_ head hurt.”

Tom laughed despite himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching down to brush her hair from her eyes. “How did you sleep?” He tried to keep his voice light and airy but he could see his efforts fell woefully short. He could see the knowledge of it in her eyes. Callie always seems to be able to see straight through him. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. 

“You don’t have to do this, Tom.” Her voice was quiet and far too even. He watched as she pushed herself up and away from him, clutching the sheet to her chest. Covering herself from his gaze just as she distanced herself from him emotionally. 

He wanted to scream, to beg her not to walk away. It was stupid and selfish, he knew it. But the desire was overwhelming all the same. “No, please…” Without conscious thought, his hand reached out to grasp at hers, holding her still. “I don’t….Callie…”

She let out a soft, resigned sigh, “We both know how this ends, Tom. You trying to sugar coat the fact you’re leaving and not coming back doesn’t make it any better. For once just fucking be honest with me. With yourself.” 

The words, though calmly spoken, cut him deeply. He was a coward, he’d known that. But to have that thrown, however matter of fact, in his face stung. “Callie...This is...What are we doing?”

Her dark eyes locked on his, “I used to hope....” She trailed off, pulling her hand out of his grasp and climbed fully off of the bed. “I know what I want Tom. And I think you do as well. But I don’t think you know what _you_ want and until you do...I don’t think I can do _this_ ,” she gesticulated wildly between them, “anymore.” 

She was dressed and out the door before he could force himself to utter another word.

Tom sat dumbfounded on the bed, trying desperately to figure out just what had happened. He let out a string of curses, hitting his balled fist on the mattress. He should have run after her. Why hadn’t he just run after her? He should never have let her leave in the first place. Not with things so uncertain between them. Not when her words hinted that maybe, just maybe he’d read the situation all wrong. But it was too late now. She was gone. 

He rested his head in is upturned hands and let out a sigh. God, he was a fucking idiot. How had he let things get so far out of hand? He cursed again, knowing it wouldn’t help. A small part of him, one he fought steadfast to ignore, wondered if maybe it wasn’t better this way. Simply letting her go and letting things end. Doing nothing. But the larger part of him screamed that if he let himself just do nothing then he would be nothing more than the coward she’d called him in all but name. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he cursed under his breath, rubbing his free hand over his face. “Tom, you utter, utter wanker.” 

Callie had made a very good point; he’d allowed himself to be drawn into whatever it was between them without considering what he truly wanted…Or, well, without allowing himself to either accept the hard work involved in what he wanted or to acknowledge he wasn’t ready and simply walk away. Instead he kept letting the same thing happen, refusing to see the toll it was taking on them both. But knowing that internally and then having it spoken aloud were two vastly different things and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Wasn’t sure just what to do.

He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet and pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms he’d left hanging on the back of his chair near the window the night before. He checked the impulse to call her and beg her to come back. That would surely cause more problems that it would solve. He needed to get himself straight before he risked making things worse between him and Callie. _Though I’m not sure how much worse it could be_ , he thought with wryly. And he hadn’t wanted to find out.

As it stood, Callie probably had little desire to see him again let alone speak with him. And he couldn’t really blame her. What he had done was the height of selfishness, even if it hadn’t ever been his intention to be so. If he approached her without really knowing if it was because he _wanted_ to rather than because he felt he _should_ …Tom was well aware he could so easily lose her for good. That was something he wasn’t sure he was prepared for. 

_Coffee_ , he decided with a cool certainty, _I need coffee_ . _Coffee and a fucking miracle_ . While it brewed he would have time to think, really _think_ , and then be able to come to what he feared, and knew with a grim certainty, would be quite difficult decisions. His footsteps echoed softly on the stairs as he made his way down to the lower level and towards the kitchen. 

Sunlight poured in from the front windows, bathing the hallway and kitchen in bright, warm light. He pattered towards the cupboard above the sink, pulling a tin of ground dark roast coffee from the uppermost shelf and placing it onto the counter before the coffee press his younger sister had given him as a house warming gift years ago. Turning, he grabbed a mug from a nearby cabinet, a light blue one he’d had for ages with a chip on one side of its rim, and set it beside the tin of coffee. He made quick work of setting water to boil in a kettle by the stove and placing several scoops of coffee into the bottom of the press, allowing his mind to wander as he did so. 

One thing he knew with certainty was Callie had become infinitely important to him. These moments he had with her were little life lines in the chaos his life inherently was. And he’d used it, selfishly, knowing but not really allowing himself to think on the fact there were more than just his feelings involved. It was equally clear to him that Callie cared about him, that she had for a long while now. He’d known since the beginning she had never wanted the things his life brought, and it had played a very crucial role into why things had fallen apart. 

Since then he’d taken it as gospel that her opinions hadn’t changed. She’d never said, never hinted at wanting more…But _now_ …Now he found himself wondering if maybe she had done so and he’d simply been too wrapped in himself to see. That thought pulled him up short. Judging from her reaction, he feared that might very well have been the case. Had he really been so blind? So wrapped up in what he wanted, that he missed the change in her? A bitter laugh fell from his lips. No wonder she’d been so cold, so defeated. 

Tom rubbed his face with his hands once again. God, this was a mess. He’d been so certain before she’d woken, so damn certain that walking away was the only real path left for them. That his flitting in and out of her life, sharing her bed for these brief sojourns, was only causing them both unnecessary and avoidable pain. But now…Now when it was abundantly clear that she herself intended to sever their tenuis connection if he couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted between them, the idea filled him with dread. The reality of never seeing her again, never holding her, never being able being able to just simply be with her again, shook him to his core. 

The faint whistle of the kettle pulled Tom reluctantly back into reality. Tea towel in hand, he removed the kettle and poured the steaming water into the opened press. Tom stood, watching as the coffee steeped, his mind replaying the look on her face just before she’d grabbed her clothing and gone. It was a knife to the heart; her resigned heartache. The pained and weary acceptance that sat in her eyes, had been painted across her face. And he hadn’t stopped her. Hadn’t done all in his power to get her to stay and talk. He really was a coward after all.

Once satisfied with the strength, Tom worked the plunger with the smooth fluidity of years of practice and soon the strong scent of hot, fresh coffee filled the small, brightly lit kitchen. He poured himself a cup and, once it was doctored to his liking, headed into the living room. He let himself settle on the couch, propping his feet on the edge of the wooden coffee table. 

The house was unnaturally quiet. It was something he used to revel in. Things in his life were so rarely quiet these days and he’d learned to take his solace in whatever silence could be found. But now…Now it felt oppressive. He shook his head and took a sip of his steaming coffee. He hissed as it burned his tongue. It was still too hot for consumption but he desperately needed the caffeine. Tom forced another sip before placing the mug onto the side table. He scrubbed his face with his opened hand before leaning his head back. This was a mess, pure and simple. 

No matter what he chose, it would be an uphill battle. Between wanting to protect her privacy and his own, being with her would provide complication…And truly walking away and never coming back, that was unbearable. No matter what he chose, it would hurt them both. But staying and trying to fight to make something work between them…He knew with startling clarity that he’d wanted it more than he could find words for. It wouldn’t be easy but then again nothing in life worth having ever really was. And, truthfully, he’d never been one for the easier path. If he was mistaken though…If they tried this and she couldn’t handle it…Didn’t want to handle it…

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. If they tried and she couldn’t or didn’t want to handle what his life would entail…Then he would do his best to carry on. Things in life were never guaranteed, Tom knew that better than most. He’d had plenty of relationships fall apart, lost people he’d believed would always be there. It had hurt but he’d survived it. And logically, he knew if things between him and Callie fell apart he would desperately hurt but his world would not end. But understanding did little to stifle the feeling of panic. God, he was overthinking this. 

Tom reached for his coffee mug and took another sip, cringing as the cold coffee poured into his mouth. How long had he been sitting there? Annoyed, he pushed himself to his feet and padded back into the kitchen and placed the mug in the microwave. Forty seconds would do the trick. As he watched the mug spin lazily around, Tom once again allowed his mind to wander. 

What he wanted was simple. He wanted her. Wanted her in his life, not just his bed. Wanted to know she would be waiting for him when he came back from his travels. Wanted her to come with him whenever she could. But what she wanted, he wasn’t completely certain. He thought he’d known before and he’d apparently been completely mistaken. And if it was mistaken again…

They would need to talk, really talk. And then he would have to take whatever came of such a conversation, be it good or ill, and make the best of it. But would she be willing to talk with him? If she wouldn’t…He took another deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. There was only one way to find out. 

Tom took the stairs two at a time, quickly making his way into the bedroom. His mobile was sitting on the bedside table, connected to its charging cord. He unplugged and unlocked it in short order, scrolling through his contact list until he found her name. _No time like the present…_

He hit ‘dial’ and held his breath as the phone rang. 

And rang. 

Tom fought to ignore the knot in his stomach. She might not be home yet (though if his watch was to be believed it was nearing eleven. When she’d left it had been going on eight and she hadn’t lived too far). _Or she’s choosing to ignore you_ , his mind helpfully chimed in. 

He very nearly dropped the phone when the line finally clicked and Callie’s voice echoed in his ear. “What, Tom?”

He swallowed thickly before forcing himself to speak. And once he did the words came tumbling out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to and I understand that. But we do need to talk, Callie. I need to tell you things and I think there are things you need to tell me.”

The line was quiet and for a moment Tom feared she’d simply hung up on him. “I don’t…” She paused and he heard her take a deep breath. “Somewhere neutral. If we do this, we need to go somewhere neutral for both of us.” 

“Yes,” he answered, understanding the logic of her request. Both his place and hers held far too many memories which would make this so much harder than it needed to be. “Um…There is a coffee shop a few streets over. They are pretty quiet and out of the way….We shouldn’t be bothered there.” Tom cursed the circumstances of his life for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. If he were just any other bloke they wouldn’t have to worry about being overheard and having their conversation splashed across the front page of a tabloid as ‘entertainment’. They could meet and be free to honestly talk this out….And if he’d been just any other bloke then most likely none of this would be happening.

Tom ran a hand through his hair as he awaited her response; feeling the knots in his stomach tighten with alarming force. 

“Okay,” she finally whispered. “Give me the address.”

  


Twenty minutes later found Tom sitting in one of the high backed booths in the back corner of the shop. His double espresso steamed gently before him, mostly untouched, and he found himself fighting the urge to jump and stare every time the front door bell chimed the entrance of another customer. Part of him feared she wouldn’t show. That she had decided to wash her hands of him once and for all. The idea stung but he knew she had every right to do just such a thing. To simply walk away… 

His attention snapped back to the present as the door chimed again. Callie had changed and showered since he’d seen her last, her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she now wore an oversized green jumper and dark leggings. She looked comfortable but wary. Her smile was small and did not quite reach her eyes. “Hiya,” she greeted him before sliding into the other side of the booth. 

“Would you care for…?” Tom gestured vaguely at his own cup. 

Callie shook her head. “I’m good, thank you.” She folded her hands and placed them before her on the table. “You wanted to talk.” It was a statement, not question, and Tom found himself taken off guard by it.

He nodded, masking his unease with a sip of his espresso. “You were right.” Her eyes snapped up to his face, their brown depths echoing confusion and concern in equal measure. “This…What we are doing…It’s not working.”

Callie forced a nod. “It’s not.”

Tom started to reach for her hand, caught himself, and placed his own hands on the table. “You told me that you don’t believe that I know what I want and that it’s not fair to either of us…And in a way you were right.” He paused and took another sip. “I want you…And not just for a night or two…I want this…Us, to be something, but I thought…With what being with me entails…I believed you didn’t want any part of that…So I was selfish and I took what I could get…And I am sorry.” 

She leaned back against the padded cushion of the booth. “And?” He could read the caution and doubt painted across her features as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud. 

Her doubt and uncertainty shouldn’t have surprised him. After all he’d not been the most forthright person in this endeavor. And she’d been left waiting and wanting far too many times to take his words at face value. But it stung all the same. “I made the mistake of assuming I knew what you wanted…That you wouldn’t want more because of who I am and what that would mean. And that was wrong of me. I should have asked you outright instead of believing that you hadn’t changed your mind. And that is on me.” He took a deep breath. “But all the same I wish you had _said_ something. Told me explicitly what you wanted. I can’t read your mind, Callie. I can’t know what you’re thinking. I’m sorry I’ve caused you pain, but I didn’t know…Not really.”

Callie bristled slightly but nodded. “I should have and I own that. But to be completely honest I wasn’t sure how…Or if it was something you would have been willing to hear.”

It was Tom’s turn to bristle though he could not blame her for thinking as she had. He’d flitted in and out of her life without so much as a promise. How could she think anything but that? “Fair enough,” he murmured. He covered his unease once again with sip of his espresso. “We haven’t been clear with each other and that’s led us here.” He paused again, raising his head to hers. “But we can do better than this. I want us to be better. This…You and me, I want us to be more than just a few stolen nights. I want you in my life in a permanent way. I want us to be truly together.”

“So do I.”

The smile that spread across Tom’s face was exquisite. This was going far better than he’d dared hope it would. She wanted this, wanted _him_ too. “Then let’s do this. Really do this, you and I.” He reached across the table, taking her hands in his own and squeezing them gently. His smile fell as he caught the look of hopeful doubt in her eyes. 

“They are wonderful words, Tom. And I want to believe them.” Callie offered a small, sad smile, pulling her hands back from his. “But how do I know that once we leave here and you go back to your life that you won’t just disappear again?”

“Because I won’t. I can’t.” Tom leaned across the table and took her hand again, imploring her to believe him. “Not again. I cannot let you walk out of my life simply because I chose the coward’s way out. I want this,” he squeezed her hand, “with you. I want to…take you to the cinema. To the theatre. I want to walk hand in hand with you in the park. And all those silly, small things people take for granted. I want that…All of it, with you.” 

“I want that too, Tom. Believe me I do…I just…I need more than words. Can you understand that? This…If I do this…If _we_ do this, I need to know for sure that you are in this. Really in this. I can’t…I can’t open myself up like this without knowing there is something solid…Something real there. I need more than words.”

Tom nodded, squeezing her hand. He hated her doubt, her lack of faith in his word. But he could understand it. “You need to be certain that I am substance, not air.” Callie nodded. He smiled softly, “I can understand that….I…” He paused, looking down briefly in thought before raising his eyes back to Callie’s dark brown ones. “There is a premiere I’ve been invited to…In Leicester Square next week…Would you come with me? As my date?”

Callie shot him an incredulous look. “Tom…I…I’ve never...” Her hands gesticulated wildly, both disbelief and uncertainty coloring her tone. “I don’t have a dress…” 

Tom shook his head, raising his hand to place a finger over her lips to cease her rambling. “Please. I want you to come with me….I’ll handle everything; dress, make-up, hair, transport…Just say yes. Please.”

He watched the indecision play across her face and hoped with all he had she would say yes. She would give him this chance to prove that he meant it. That he wanted this. Wanted her in his life and that he wasn’t ashamed of it. He was aware too, that he was putting her very clearly on the spot, potentially throwing her metaphorically to the wolves. And that was the last thing he wanted. He had just opened his mouth to take it back, to tell her she didn’t have to do this, if she didn’t truly want to when she spoke.

“I…” Callie started, her attention turned briefly down to her hands on the table. “Alright.” The word came out softly and for a moment Tom was certain he’d not heard her correctly. And then she spoke again. “I’ll go.”

Tom smiled brightly, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. He could see it in her face, in her eyes that she still was uncertain. Still held doubt. But she’d agreed and that was something. He could work on the rest. He could show her he meant it. And he would. 

  


Luke hadn’t been best pleased at the work Tom had thrown his way and had told him so, often and loudly. “It’s not that I’m against you bringing someone; you have every right to do so, you great bloody git as I’ve told you for _years_ now. It’s the fact you tell me less than _six_ days before the damned premiere, expecting me to handle the details; a dress, make-up, hair…Dear god, man. I can do many things, Tom, but this is cutting it a bit fine don’t you think?”

Tom had apologized profusely but insisted nonetheless. Callie deserved it. If he was doing it, he was going to do it right. And Luke had come through, confirming the details with Callie and with Tom. It would be cutting it fine, but it had been doable, he’d assured them both. She would have a styling team and a decent selection of dresses sent to hers the day of the premiere and she and Tom would travel to the theater from hers (it would be a simple enough matter to have the car Luke had hired for Tom pick him up as originally planned and then swing by for her). The process had probably hastened the arrival of Luke’s grey hair and Tom knew he’d owe the man a very nice bonus for his troubles. And probably a very long, restful holiday. 

He’d gotten the text from Luke stating that the team he’d arranged would be arriving at Callie’s in the late morning of the day of the premiere. And the morning of, had texted him to let him know they’d arrived. Tom let out a small sigh of relief, at least things were going to plan so far. His own final fitting wasn’t scheduled until later than afternoon and he found himself with the better part of the morning to kill. A run seemed immensely appealing just then. A chance to clear his head and focus his mind on something other than impending nerves. So he had made quick work changing into his usual running attire and headed out the door.

He was panting and drenched in sweat by the time he returned, but much calmer in mind and spirit. A quick glance at his watch told him he had enough time to shower before his own team would arrive. He wasted little time climbing the stairs and stripping off his running gear; leaving them in a pile by the bedroom door. 

The hot water felt amazing on his sore muscles and, had it been any other day, Tom would have easily stayed in the shower until he’d resembled a prune. The temptation was a strong one. But he hadn’t the luxury, not today; the coming evening was far too important for him to risk jeopardizing it. And certainly not for something so trivial. He made quick work of washing his hair and body, wrapping himself in the large, navy blue towel hanging behind the bathroom door. He padded back into his bedroom and grabbed the clean t-shirt and jogging bottoms he’d laid out. 

He’d just finished rubbing his hair as dry as he could when the bell by the front gate rang. Upon confirming it was indeed his team, Tom buzzed them in and gave way to the chaos. Once he was suited and his hair had been coifed he’d found himself pacing around the living room, his earlier nerves bubbling back towards the surface. The car Luke had arranged was set to arrive at just after four, giving them plenty of time to make it to Callie’s flat and then to the theater. But four came and went. 

Tom had tried very hard not to panic and had given it a good ten minutes before texting both Luke and the driving company for updates. Traffic, he’d been informed. There had been an accident shutting down several main roads and the car had been forced to detour. They should be no more than half an hour late. Tom had been as gracious as he could be with the news, though on the inside he was a seething mess of frustrated anxiety. Every call he’d made to Callie’s phone had gone to voicemail and she wasn’t answering any of the texts he’d sent either. He could only imagine what would be running through her head when the car hadn’t shown when expected. 

At quarter past four the car pulled to a stop before Tom’s and he’d rushed out nearly as soon as he’d heard the bell. It was another fifteen minutes before the car pulled in front of Callie’s building. Tom had jumped from the car and taken the stairs to her flat two at a time, arriving at her door slightly out of breath. She opened it on his second knock and the apology that had been on the tip of his tongue vanished.

Simply put she was stunning. Her long, dark hair had been curled and hung loosely over one shoulder. Her dark eyes had been lined in kohl, her lips painted a stunning dark shade of red, only a few tones lighter than the dark burgundy of her dress. The dress left one shoulder bare and clung to her curves in the most sinful way, falling just past her knee. The heels she wore brought her to nearly his own height and the thought of what they could do in them flashed boldly through his mind. 

“You look absolutely…Enchanting.” Tom breathed once words and sense had returned to him. He held his hand out to her, hoping she wouldn’t note it’s slightly tremble. If he had thought Callie breathtaking before it was nothing…Nothing compared to the way she overwhelmed him now. 

She took his hand, murmuring a brief and quiet ‘thank you’ but said nothing else as they made their way down the stairs and into the car. The ride to the theater was, thankfully, uneventful. Whatever nightmare the traffic had been earlier had cleared enough in spite of their later start they would still most likely make it to the theater on time. The idea should have filled Tom with relief but the silence radiating from Callie tempered it significantly. 

“Callie, are you alright?” It was a stupid question and he’d known it the second it had left his lips. The set of her shoulders and the way she carefully did not look in his direction as they road spoke volumes. 

“I’m fine,” she answered, briefly turning her head in his direction. 

Tom let his gaze fall over her, uncertainty gnawing at him. He’d pushed for her to come, to do this with him. What if…What if this wasn’t what she’d wanted? Had he forced her, however unintentionally, into going along with this? That wasn’t what he’d wanted. He couldn’t, wouldn’t make her do this just for his sake. He reached for her hands, taking them in his own. “Callie, we don’t have to do this.”

Her eyes snapped to his and Tom could clearly see the resignation and hurt in them though she was plainly trying in vain to hide it. “Oh…” She paused and swallowed thickly. “If…Alright then. I understand.”

It hit him then, what he’d said, how he’d phrased it, had been exactly the wrong thing. She thought he didn’t want her there…With him. And that was the absolute farthest thing from the truth. “No…No. No. No, Callie. That isn’t what…”

The car pulled to a stop and the dull roar from the crowd gathered around the theater echoed through the closed doors of the car. When the passenger door opened a few moments later the dull roar erupted into a wall of sound. Tom sat for a moment, indecision playing on his features, before taking a deep breath and slowly climbing from the car. He turned then, facing the opened door, waiting. But Callie hadn’t moved. 

Tom smiled softly and held out his hand towards her, “Come on. It will be alright.”

Confusion played across her face. “Tom what are you…?” It was clear she had assumed he hadn’t wanted her to accompany him on the carpet. And he couldn’t have that. 

“I’m waiting for my date,” he answered, pausing to wave periodically at the crowd. “Come on, love, I’ve got you.” Tentatively, she took his proffered hand, and slid slowly out of the car. Tom could feel her trembling beside him and pulled her tightly to his side. This caused an explosion of noise and Tom did his level best to ignore the unending barrage of blinding flashes. “It’s alright.” He murmured into her hair and felt her nod against him. 

With his arm locked firmly around her waist, he began to lead her away from the car and towards the start of the press line. He could feel her anxiety and uncertainty and did not lessen his hold. “Tom…”

“I know,” he reassured her. “I know. It’s a lot. But I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled back just enough to look directly into her anxious eyes. Ceased by an impulse he refused to check, Tom leaned in and kissed her; firmly and with feeling. He felt her gasp in surprise and took his chance to deepen the kiss before pulling back and smiling down at her. The eruption of noise behind them, the shouts of his name and the click and flash of hundreds of cameras, barely registered for him. He inclined his head towards the waiting press line. “Shall we?”

She nodded silently and let him lead the way. He saw Luke standing at the start of the line, a look of resigned annoyance in his eyes; Tom knew there would be a reckoning later but couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. As they neared the first set of reporters and cameras, Callie pulled back and began to move towards Luke but Tom took her hand and held it firmly in his. 

“Please,” he whispered. “You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to. But please, stay with me?” 

Callie looked at him, hesitation painted clearly on her features, for several moments before nodding and moving back to stand by his side. The grin splitting his face was nearly as blinding as the flashes exploding around them. 

“Shall we?” he asked. Callie smiled, nodding her head and, hand in hand, they walked towards the press line. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
